


Diversion

by Anonymous



Series: Wee Omens [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bentley Car Sex Challenge (Good Omens), Desperation, Fully Clothed, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Nice and accurate understanding of roadside laws, Omorashi, Pee fic, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 12:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20835389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Bentley's stuck in traffic. Crowley needs a wee. Aziraphale like this.





	Diversion

'Oh come on!' complained Crowley, shifting in his seat. It had been _almost_ gridlock traffic for hours now. Bumper to bumper, stop-start, crawling along the M40 to London. Crowley thoroughly resented being reduced to a crawl. Especially when his bladder was ferociously nagging him. It wasn't like the motorway was on fire or anything. And Aziraphale was preventing him from using any kind of miracle.

'We're keeping a low profile,' he reminded the demon. 'No miracles. And no getting out of the car. Far too many patrol cars around.'

'What do they expect us to do?' whined Crowley, his leg bouncing. 'Public urination isn't illegal, angel!'

'No, but stopping on the hard shoulder without good reason is, not to mention indecent exposure given there's no cover anywhere. And you know what sort of vibe you give off.' 

Crowley scowled and squirmed. 

Aziraphale looked around. Everyone else seemed bored but comfortable. No one was having a wee by the side of the road. It would be far too conspicuous.

He looked back at Crowley who looked deeply uncomfortable. 'I expect it will clear in a moment, dear. We'll be home in no time.'

'Angel, can't you just... clear the road?'

'No miracles, Crowley,' said Aziraphale sternly. 'If it's that bad, then I'm afraid...' he raised an eyebrow and glanced at Crowley's lap. 'Well. You know what will happen. And you should have thought of that when you were indulging earlier.'

Crowley fumed. The car in front moved a few feet, so he scooted forward, then came to stop, applying the handbrake. He was making little breathy sounds. Aziraphale was finding it adorable. He felt more and more than he was going to be witness to a deliciously taboo show any time now. He adjusted the light in the car to make sure he'd have a good view.

'Angel,' growled Crowley. 'You're loving this, aren't you?'

'Well my dear,' said Aziraphale. 'You do appear to have gotten yourself into a pickle. One you can't miracle yourself out of. And yes, I'm looking forward to you learning a lesson, if you like.'

Crowley opened his mouth to argue, but suddenly grit his teeth and groaned, his hand gripping himself. 'It's not fair!' he complained.

'Oh I rather think it is,' said Aziraphale pleasantly. He was feeling a little foggy. He knew he'd won. He fully inhabited being utterly smug about it, as Crowley gasped with the exertion of holding it in. 'There's you boasting about going months and years without a hitch, drinking to your heart's content, smirking at my more human weaknesses, and refusing to visit the little boy's room at the steam museum because you, and I quote, _wouldn't need to go for days yet, unlike some undisciplined angels I know_.'

Crowley tried to hide his pout from Aziraphale's overbearing righteousness. He squeezed himself again, losing the capacity for clear thought, clear vision, clear anything. His second hand went to his crotch.

'Go on then, you naughty boy,' prompted Aziraphale. 'I warned you. You'll have to wet yourself.'

'I'm not going to!' said Crowley, obstinate as a preschooler. 'Not in my car.' He whimpered and pressed his knees together. He bit his lip. The car ahead moved again, a good 10 feet this time. Perhaps traffic was loosening up. He could do this. He could hold it. 

Again, they came to a stop. Again, the handbrake went back on. And again, the weight of Crowley's bladder threatened to drag him through the floor. A part of him wanted to let go. He liked it, after all. But he liked it on his terms. Not when it meant Aziraphale was right. Not in his beautiful car. 

Aziraphale relented at his clear discomfort. 'Crowley,' he murmured kindly. 'I'm sorry. But there's nothing we can do now. You're going to...'

He didn't finish, because his poor, anguished demon let out a soft cry. Darkness spread in Crowleys groin, over his crotch and the tops of his thighs. He leaned over, stemming the flow with considerable effort. 'It's just a little accident, I can stop it...' he moaned, breath shaky.

Aziraphale felt bad. But he also felt quite aroused. He brushed Crowley's hair back off his forehead, where little beads of sweat had appeared. 'It's all right,' he soothed. 'It's too late now. Let it happen. It's all right.'

A little gasp, and the damn burst. It gushed through the black denim and over Crowley's hands with a hiss, and started to pool between his thighs. Crowley sat up, then sat back, opening his legs a little. He could do nothing now. He groaned with profound relief as he created a substantial hot puddle in seconds, soaking his backside and legs completely. The car seat, a crimson leather, did little to absorb the surge. 

Aziraphale put a hand on a bony knee for support, trying not to feel too titillated by the scene in front of him, but was happy to see a look of immense pleasure on Crowley's face. He watched as his recalcitrant demon continued to completely wet himself, listening to the pitter-patter of liquid hitting the carpeting, before the only sound was Crowley's deep breathing. 

They were both thrown out of the reverie by a distant police light, and noticed the car in front had edged forward again. Crowley regained focus for a moment and followed suit, then sat back again. He wriggled a little with a sigh and relaxed his head back onto the head rest. 'Bollocks,' he grumbled. 

With a dramatic huff, he rolled his head to look at Aziraphale. The angel was glowing golden. His blue eyes were twinkling with mischief and there was a pink blush in his cheeks. He was breathing unsteadily. 

Crowley put a slightly damp hand against Aziraphale's crotch and felt the hardening length there. His angel responded with an incomprehensible garbled groan and instantly pushed against the heel of Crowley's hand. 

Crowley glared at him. 'And you have the audacity to call _me_ naughty,' scolded the demon. He adjusted the car light for privacy, then continued to massage Aziraphale's arousal through the trousers. 

The beige trousers were uncomfortably tight, but the rising need was far too critical to slow down or rearrange anything. Additionally, Aziraphale had not forgotten they were in public, and while Crowley's embarrassing accident would be excused as an unfortunate mishap, the same judgement would not be afforded to a hand job. He therefore settled for humping Crowley's hand somewhat shamelessly. With a smirk, Crowley leaned in and kissed Aziraphale quite indecently. He then took to whispering in his ear.

'Oh angel. I can't believe I've wet myself,' he breathed. 'I've been so bad.'

Aziraphale put his sleeve in his mouth to muffle his pleasured moans, and every time his eyes were tempted to drift shut as his body took over, he glanced over to his naughty demon's wet jeans, and remembered the squirming and the bashfulness. He rubbed harder, reaching over to mirror Crowley's ministrations by placing a warm hand in the demon's sopping crotch. Crowley responded to the heat of the angel's touch and lifted his hips to meet the pressure. 

They shared breathy gasps, kissing sloppily and clumsily while pursuing that wicked ecstasy that was building deep inside. They knew they needed to be quick. Quick and dirty. 

Aziraphale soon forgot himself and shouted out, coming in creamy bursts that soon seeped through his trousers. He moaned with soft relief, melting into an afterglow.

Crowley had further to go, but held Aziraphale's hand firmly to him. He pressed it hard against his clothed length, rutting furiously, willing himself to come before the angel's mind cleared and left him behind. The pleasure surged and he slid down in the seat, putting his feet up on the dash board, hips frantically chasing every sensation. He was wet, he was terrible, he was naughty, and he'd made his angel come because of it. He cried out loudly.

'That's it. Come, Crowley. Good boy,' cooed Aziraphale. The angel watched as Crowley gave a silent scream, feeling hot ejaculate soak through the jeans and over his hand. 'Good boy, good boy,' he soothed, stroking his demon through the bliss. 

They were gazing at each other for what felt like an age, when the sound of a car horn jolted them both back to reality.

'Oh now we're moving. Fuck's sake,' intoned Crowley, putting the Bentley back into action and getting into second gear for the first time in hours. 

Aziraphale was fairly certain that his bow tie was askew, but thought that was certainly the least of their worries. He looked at Crowley who was focused on the road. The traffic was clearing, and their speed was increasing. Before long, they had passed the M25 and were joining the A40 into central London. Crowley grimaced and shifted in his seat.

'Angel...' he complained, rather petulantly. 

'Well,' said Aziraphale. 'I'm sure a little car cleaning miracle couldn't hurt.'

Crowley's mouth fell open. 'You said no miracles!'

Aziraphale widened his eyes innocently. 'Yes well. That was in Buckinghamshire. We're in London now.'

They came to a stop at some traffic lights, and the demon turned to glare at him balefully. Aziraphale clicked his fingers. Everything was suddenly fresh as a daisy. Crowley quickly inspected the seat beneath him. It was fine, and so was he. He sighed, pursing his lips.

Aziraphale side-glanced him sweetly, blue eyes still ever so wide and innocent. He straightened his bow tie. 'You're not angry, are you dear?' he ventured cautiously. 

'Just you wait till I get you home,' said Crowley darkly.

Aziraphale shivered, and smiled happily. His demon gently took hand in his so they were shifting gears together, coaxing the Bentley all the way into Soho. 


End file.
